


just when everyday seemed to greet me with a smile

by Mekina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Prostitution, Rimming, Snowballing, Wincest - Freeform, hooker!Dean, jealous!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mekina/pseuds/Mekina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After years of radio silence, Dean shows up at Sam's work, cheerfully popping the little bubble of normal he's built.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just when everyday seemed to greet me with a smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [just when everyday seemed to greet me with a smile](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133777) by [nikolaschika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikolaschika/pseuds/nikolaschika)



Sam liked his job. He really did. It was what he’d always wanted. Nice, comfortable, safe. Roomy office, cushy desk chair. Plus, the best two parts about it?

He was still helping people (and, admittedly, earning a nice salary doing it. At least he was rewarded for his efforts) and he didn’t have to constantly be worried about any evil things coming out of the woodwork and snapping his neck.

So, yeah, he liked it. It was a good job, normal.

Sometimes, though, in those periods when his workload slackened slightly, he allowed himself to stop and think about his family.

Dad. Dean. God, Dean. He hadn’t seen or heard from Dean for so long…

Sam flicked his pen across the desk. Thinking about his brother only led to pain, it was a subject best avoided.

He couldn’t help but wonder though, what were they doing? Where was their latest hunt?

Were they even still alive?

That wasn’t a possibility he wanted to consider, but the hunting life was a dangerous one. Even the best hunter could lose their life if they made one wrong move. A half second, a monster getting the better of you, that was all it took.

Dean was a good hunter. Dad was even better. If they were hunting together (why wouldn’t they be) then they were probably fine. Hunting alone was more dangerous than hunting with a partner. You had someone to watch your back that way and potentially save your ass if you screwed up.

If they were both okay, then why hadn’t either of them contacted him? John Winchester was a stubborn bastard, so Sam understood why he hadn’t gotten calls or messages from his father. But Dean? He wasn’t entirely sure why Dean had made no attempt to speak to him. For the first two years he was in college there had been sporadic calls and texts, but eventually Dean just seemed to drop off the face of the Earth.

The pen rolled off the desk as Sam flicked it again. Just as he bent down to retrieve it, someone knocked on the door.

“Come in!” It was in an inconvenient corner. He had to get out of the chair and onto the floor to get it. While he was down there the door opened and his visitor came in, footsteps muffled by the plush carpet.

“Sam?”

He was in such a hurry to get out from under the desk that he hit his head and almost knocked the chair over. Sam let out an undignified squawk and rubbed his head, seeing Dean on the other side of the room as soon as his eyes were over the desk.

“Any reason you were down on the carpet?” Dean’s mouth twitched slightly, an almost smile. “I’d make a joke about secretaries and executives, but your name is on the door.” 

He held up the pen, mouth open in his best imitation of a fish. “Dean, why, what. What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” Dean strolled over to one of the other chairs and took a seat, like he belonged there in Sam’s office. “Thought I’d come by and pay you a visit. My only brother, after all.”

“Right.” Dean actually remembered that he had a brother? It was almost surprising. “You’ve gone out of your way to visit and call, of course.” Dean didn’t respond, so Sam sat down slowly.

Dean looked okay. He wasn’t missing any limbs, or terribly injured. Not anywhere that Sam could see, that was. He wouldn’t be able to tell for sure unless he got under Dean’s clothes (no, they weren’t going there again. Sam had told himself that when he left for college, left for a normal life where there was no room for the things they did when it was dark and silent.), but at a glance, Dean didn’t seem horribly maimed.

He was safe and alive, so what the hell was with the years of radio silence? Sam clenched his jaw, wanting to ask and unwilling at the same time to make the first meeting after so long unpleasant.

“You look good, Sammy.” Dean’s voice was rough, but he looked…proud.

Sam’s chest felt tight. Dean was older, of course, and it showed. Worn around the edges, more ragged than the last time Sam had seen him. “You do too. Better than I expected.” Dean snorted. “I was beginning to wonder if you hadn’t been salted and burned long ago. Never know with hunters, do you? It’s a dangerous business.”

“It is. Dad…” Dean trailed off. His eyes said enough.

No. “He’s hurt?” Sam asked. Maybe it was just an injury, and Dad was out of commission for a while. Did they need a place to stay? Money? Sam had both, not a big place or a lot of money, but enough to spare for his family.

God, let it just be an injury.

“No. He’s dead.” Dean was composed, no tears, not indifferent, but not broken up about it either. On the outside. Maybe he’d grown used to it, to Dad being gone. He had to be hurting still, of course he was. Dean hadn’t even taken their father getting hurt well. Blaming himself, quietly guilty, always wondering what he could have done to get a different outcome, even if it wasn’t in any way his fault.

“Fuck. Is that why you’re here? You came to tell me?”

Their dad was dead, and the last time Sam saw him, he was told he couldn’t come back. They never made up, never even talked again, and…

Sam felt like he had suffered repeated blows to the gut. He didn’t always get along with his father, but knowing that he wasn’t ever going to get a chance to make amends? That was the worst.

“No. It’s not why I came, actually. I was in the area. Hunt.” Dean shrugged, making it clear that the hunt was over and done with.

That wasn’t why Dean was here? “How long ago did it happen? How?”

“’Bout a year ago. Werewolf got him before either of us could shoot it.”

A year? A _year?_ It happened an entire year ago, and Dean didn’t think it was important to let him know that their father was dead? “Are you fucking kidding me?” How could he let a year go by before deciding to let him know something so important? “Goddamn it, Dean!”

“You almost done with work? I’d like to have a shower with actual hot water for once.”

Just as infuriating as ever. Dean hadn’t lost the ability to wind Sam up like no one else. “No. I’m done for the day.” Sam dropped the pen into a drawer and stood up. “Come on, I’ll take you to my place.”

The Impala was parked across the street. Sam sucked in a breath, startled to see it again after so long. How many hours had he spent in the backseat of that car? Hours on end, watching the yellow road markers disappear under the car, lulled to sleep by the combination of the engine’s growl and the rock music playing in the background.

“Good to see her again, right?” Dean petted the Impala’s hood lovingly, and Sam didn’t even resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“Still disturbingly attached to your car, good to know.” He moved to his own, which Dean scoffed at. “Shut up, it’s reliable and guzzles less gas than yours. Follow behind me.”

*

When they got to Sam’s apartment, Dean barely spared enough time to whistle appreciatively before he was barging past Sam into his bathroom.

Sam got a couple of beers out while he waited for Dean to finish. He took his sweet time, and came out with nothing but a towel around his waist.

“All my clothes are in the trunk of the Impala,” he explained with a shrug, stealing the unopened beer right out of Sam’s hand and dropping onto his couch.

“Shouldn’t sit on that while you’re wet,” Sam put on a stern face. Dean ignored it, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “You’ve been hunting on your own? Dean, why didn’t you come get me? You shouldn’t have been left to handle it alone.”

“I managed just fine, Sam. Didn’t want to disturb you, figured you’d be living it up with a girl and a dog and all that. You live here alone?”

Not at first. “I had a girlfriend. Her name was Jess. She was great, but…” It didn’t work out. He didn’t know anything about keeping a relationship steady and strong. He’d been unprepared for dealing with a steady girlfriend. “We were actually engaged at one point, but we broke it off.” They hadn’t ended things as friends, necessarily, but it hadn’t been nasty or vicious.

Dean made an understanding noise. He didn’t say _sorry_ , to Sam’s relief. No one who said it really meant it, it was just a thing you were expected to say. Rules of society and everything. Winchesters didn’t follow those.

Silence descended for a while. Dean finished his beer and then announced, “The thing that killed Mom. It’s dead.”

Sam choked on the final swallow of his own. “What the fuck,” he sputtered. “Goddamn it, Dean! Why didn’t you think that was important enough to mention right away? What was it? When? Why didn’t either of you come get me?”

“We thought about it, but decided it was too dangerous. In case it went south, we figured there should be at least one Winchester left. It was a demon. Shot the bastard.”

Sam was still hurt that Dean hadn’t come to let him know immediately after their father died, and now he was hearing they didn’t include him on one of the most important things in their lives. The thing Dad had wanted their entire lives, revenge for Mary Winchester.

If John were alive and in the room, Sam probably would have started a fight with him over it. As it was, Sam just wished he were there to yell at.

For the first time since Dean had come out of the bathroom, Sam looked at him. Really looked at him. He was a lot thinner than Sam remembered. More scarred, of course, but that was to be expected. Who knew how many hunts there had been in their years apart.

So thin, though. “Have you been eating enough?” Weight had never been a problem for Dean. He ate food filled with fat and grease, but the exercise he got from hunting kept him at a pretty steady weight. Consistent.

“Just as many cheeseburgers as ever, Sam.” 

Sam wasn’t convinced. He looked Dean over again, eyes falling to his wrists and the bruises there. Bruises that could only come from someone holding him down roughly.

“Did you get those from a hunt?” Sam lifted Dean’s arm for a better look.

Dean grunted. “Nah. Hookup.”

No woman gave him those bruises. They were from hands almost as big as Sam’s. “With a man? Thought you preferred women?” Certainly he’d never expected Dean to let a guy get so rough with him. His knowledge of Dean’s kinks didn’t include very rough sex, or being marked up.

“I do, but I’ll go with whoever pays me enough.” Sam raised his eyes in shock. Dean met his gaze, apparently unashamed.

“You- hooking?!”

“Not every town has a place to hustle. Gotta do what you gotta do.”

Sam’s stomach was churning. The bad news kept coming. His brother was on the streets selling his body to strangers. Fuck no. “Have you been thrown into one too many walls? What the hell is wrong with you, Dean? You just give it up for any man who’ll throw enough money your way?”

“Hey, I do get some women as well.” Dean didn’t flinch when Sam stood up and loomed over him. “What the fuck do you want me to say, Sam? I let Dad die, and I was alone. Can’t always hustle, and credit cards reach their limit. Sometimes, there’s no other choice. I need to eat.”

“You could have come to me! Christ, Dean. I’m not rich, but I have enough money that you wouldn’t need to sell yourself just to live!”

“What, come slinking around with my tail between my legs asking for your money? I’m not going to be a burden to you. I only came by now because I wanted to see you. Didn’t want your charity.”

He didn’t say it, but Sam heard it anyway, clear as day. _I missed you, just wanted to see you and I missed you so fucking much._

“Charity?” Sam let his shoulders slump. How did Dean manage to misinterpret everything so spectacularly? “You’re not a burden. Couldn’t be. You’re my brother, and I’d rather have you here eating my food than letting strangers buy your body.” 

Strangers. Their hands, mouths, who the fuck knew what else all over Dean. Touching him like they had a right to him, handing over their money and feeling like they, like they owned Dean, or were in some way allowed to be touching him.

“How many people this week, Dean?” He felt his voice drop lower, and he let it. Went back to looming, leaning over the couch so that Dean had to tilt his head right back to maintain eye contact. “How many have paid for you?”

“You sure you want to know?” Dean’s Adam’s apple jumped as he swallowed. “You sure you want to get into this, open this can of worms? It might fuck up your happy bubble of normal.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Four.”

“That many.” Sam put his hand on Dean’s chest, brushing his thumb over one tight nipple just to see if it got a reaction. Dean tilted his head back, jaw clenching, but was otherwise unresponsive. “Did you get off?”

“Why the fuck you asking? You said things between us were over the night you left. That it was too fucked up even for you. What happened to _normal_?”

Sam didn’t want to hear it, didn’t need to be reminded of what happened back then. Yeah, he told Dean they weren’t going to be fucking around anymore, because even for the Winchester definition of normal it was messed up. It was a different time, different place now. Things were different. Sam was alone, Dad was dead, and Dean. Dean had been on his own for a year, hooking when necessary. That had to have been hard.

If he were thinking rationally he would have sat back down and tried to talk to Dean, find out more about the year his brother had spent alone.

He wasn’t. He was too busy imagining Dean with other men, their hands all over him. Even thinking about it made his skin crawl. He wanted to erase the images, make Dean forget there had ever been other men apart from himself.

They were kissing almost before Sam made the conscious decision to lean down. Dean grabbed at Sam’s shirt, pulling him farther down and almost into his lap, returning it wholeheartedly.

“Didn’t,” he said when they broke apart for a short moment. “Didn’t get off. Sometimes they like me too, especially when they’re fucking me, y’know. Feels good for them too, but none of these could be bothered. It was about their pleasure and not the other way around.”

He’d been the one to ask in the first place, but. “Shut the fuck up about them, other men. I don’t want to hear it, don’t want you thinking about anyone but me.”

Dean put on that cocky smile. “Jealous, Sam?” His eyebrows shot up. “You are!”

Yes, he was. Irrationally jealous. Those men meant nothing to Dean, he knew that. And anyway, he was the one that had left, the one that called it off and marched out the door.

Didn’t change how he felt.

Enough talking already. For once in his life he didn’t want to talk. He wanted to fuck.

Mere hours back in Sam’s life and Dean was already rubbing off on him.

He dragged Dean back into another kiss, desperate to get his hands on every inch of Dean’s skin. It had been so long already, he needed him _now._

“Whoa, easy tiger.” Dean knocked Sam’s hands away, pushing him back entirely so he could stand up. “Lead the way to the bedroom, I’m not in the mood to try and fit us both on the couch.”

As soon as they were in the bedroom Sam was on him again, pulling frantically at Dean’s towel.

“Fuck, Sam. Sit down, I’ll do it.” Dean pushed him to sit and unwrapped the towel smoothly.

Sam snorted at his own eagerness. He was so far gone he couldn’t even get a towel off, how sad was that? And from nothing but a few kisses.

Dean was naked in front of him, strong thighs and half hard dick bare for Sam to look his fill, not to mention touch.

He grabbed at Dean’s ass and pulled him closer until he was between Sam’s spread legs. He nuzzled Dean’s belly appreciatively.

“Sammy,” Dean sighed, threading his fingers through Sam’s hair. “This would be a lot better if you were naked.”

“In a minute.” Sam moved lower to bite the inside of Dean’s thigh. The unmarked skin was just begging for bites, and a hickey as well. Then there was Dean’s dick.

God, he’d missed this. Missed Dean and the sounds he made, the taste of him. Sam was out of practice, couldn’t deepthroat him like he used to be able to, but from Dean’s moans he was perfectly okay with Sam fitting half of him into his mouth and sucking for all he was worth.

“Sam. Sammy.” Dean was petting his hair like he didn’t even realize, encouraging and loving.

How long had it been since Dean had had sex with someone that was actually focused on him and not just themselves?

The thought made Sam stop and let Dean’s dick slip from his mouth, fully hard and shiny wet with spit. There was something else he wanted to do for Dean, something he knew Dean really got off on.

Dean made a whiny noise of protest at losing Sam’s mouth. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because I have somewhere else I want to put my tongue.” Sam squeezed Dean’s ass suggestively, smirking when he shivered. “Lie down, Dean. On your belly.”

He probably knew what was coming next, because he didn’t stop to argue once. Sam took the opportunity to get out of his clothes before getting onto the bed with Dean.

It was the first time he really noticed how much bigger than Dean he was now. When he left, Sam had still been a gangly teenager. Now, well. He was bigger than Dean, big enough that he could hold Dean down and put him into whatever position he liked.

Later. Not now, but that was definitely something he was filing away for future consideration.  
Dean swore when Sam licked over his hole, and oh yeah. There it was. There was nothing like Sam’s tongue up Dean’s ass to get the obscenities to start flying.

“Fuck, Sam, you fucking- your mouth should be outlawed, fuck! Bastard, haven’t lost the skills. Fuck, fuck, Sammy!”

He shoved his ass back into Sam’s face, groaning when Sam worked his tongue inside.   
As awesome as Dean clearly thought Sam’s tongue felt, there was only so much he could do with it alone. He worked a finger in carefully alongside his tongue, searching for Dean’s prostate. When Dean started humping against the bed, he knew he’d found it.

Dean probably could have gotten off from that alone, with no further stimulation to his dick than the friction provided by the sheet, but Sam was an awesome brother and gave him a hand, in the literal sense of the word.

Fucking his tongue into Dean faster, rubbing mercilessly over his prostate, and stroking his cock firmly, it hardly took any time at all for Dean to beat his fist against the bed and come, shaking and moaning.

Sam removed his finger and tongue, smiling as Dean, oversensitive, groaned. “Good?”  
“Mm, mmh, give me a minute.”

Sam shook his head fondly, toying with one of Dean’s nipples until he recovered enough to push Sam’s hand away and scoot down the mattress, swallowing his dick before Sam could ask what he was doing.

Dean did better than Sam had not long ago, going all the way down until his lips were sealed tight around the base of Sam’s dick, the head nudged into his throat. 

“Dean,” Sam was so startled by the sudden onslaught of pleasure he shouted. His brother had gotten good at this.

Of course he had, people paid to get him on his knees.

The bitter thought came from nowhere and hit hard. Sam had almost forgotten about that in the rush to relearn being with Dean, but now that he remembered, he was thinking yet again of Dean with other cocks in his mouth, making other men moan.

It wasn’t going to stop him from coming, though. Dean was fondling his balls gently, and when he slipped a finger further back to press lightly at Sam’s hole, he was done for. Pleasure rocketed through his system, as he came into Dean’s mouth.

Sam settled back on the bed, ready to nap, and was surprised when Dean moved immediately for a kiss. His clever tongue coaxed Sam’s lips apart, passing on some of Sam’s come.

It should have been gross, in the way that rimming Dean should have been, but it was Dean, and so even filthy things were strangely hot. Sam swallowed without complaint, kissing the taste right out of Dean’s mouth.

Dean draped himself over the other half of the mattress. It didn’t count as cuddling because there wasn’t much touching actually happening, but it was still warm and intimate.

“You know I’m not going to let you go back out there on your own, right?” He rolled his head lazily to watch Dean.

“Let? You’re not going to _let_ me? Don’t see your name printed on my ass, you don’t own me.”

“I mean it.” Sam wanted to make this point without Dean’s smart ass remarks. “You can stay here with me and get a job, or take classes, or just lie around all day in your underwear. I don’t care. Or we can go out together and do the hunting thing, but either way, I’m not letting you travel alone and sell yourself to survive. It’s not charity, you’re not a burden, you’re my brother. We’re sticking together from now on.” He only regretted that he hadn’t been able to be at Dean’s side sooner. Or able to see Dad a final time before he died.

Regrets were regrets, but that was the past. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t change things that happened then.

He could sure as fuck make sure things went right from now on.

Sam was worried at first that Dean would get defensive and reject Sam’s help because he felt like it was too close to pity, but that wasn’t the case at all. 

His voice was quiet and stunned. “Your job? Your friends, normal? You’d drop all that to come on the road with me?”

No hesitation. “Yeah. If you don’t want to settle down, or you think you can’t do domestic, then yeah. I’ll come with you and live the hunting life.”

He hated hunting, the entire lifestyle. Every fucking thing about it he hated.

He hated the thought of Dean alone, struggling and hurting, more.

Dean’s hand crept across the bed and found Sam’s. He laced their fingers together.

“Guess I’ll be trying out normal, Sammy.”


End file.
